Gospel Story Finder

“Mom, can we go to church?” I asked several times, but I never really got the answer I was looking for. One day was different. Instead of the usual reply, she answered, “Well, I do know of a church we can go to. I know that they teach good things, because I used to go when I was little. I can take you to that church—The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” That was the first time I learned she ever went to church, even though I knew my grandparents went to church.
I was more than satisfied with this answer. I was finally on my way to becoming something.
My mom, sister, brother, and I were finally going to church! My grandmother helped by locating which church building to attend in the area where we lived. Looking back, I do remember feeling welcomed.
Over the next few Sundays, I was welcomed like a friend that hadn’t been seen for some time. When people noticed that I was new, they smiled and extended their hand to greet me and introduced themselves. I went to Young Women with the girls. I was 15 and belonged to the Mia Maid class. I quickly made friends despite my shyness. Everyone made me feel comfortable. My sister was in the Beehive class. Being four years old, my brother went to Primary. He didn’t like going by himself, so he always made my mom go with him. I think she enjoyed it. She sang children’s songs and relearned stories from when she was younger.
The missionaries came to our house and taught us the lessons. I was delighted when they came over. Even though they were around 20 years old, they knew a lot about the scriptures and the gospel of Jesus Christ. They had a special presence and a warm glow about them. I soon found out that other members of the Church had that glow as well, including my Young Women teacher, who always let me know how happy she was to have me in her class.
I became good friends with a girl named Julia. We decided to be “buddies” at girls camp. Even though I don’t like camping or hiking very much, I really enjoyed the entire experience. There was a different feeling at this camp. Our counselors made a special effort to see that we were having a good time and that everyone was included in all the activities we participated in. During the week, we had devotionals, a nature walk to learn about different plants, a first-aid class, and campfire skits. There was also a service project that everyone in the camp happily participated in. In fact, the service project table was always crowded with volunteers. All through the week there was a sense of organization, cooperation, and friendship.
On Saturday morning, the last day, everyone got together around the campfire, and whoever wanted to stood up and told the others of their testimony of the Church and expressed their gratitude for their family, friends, and what a great and memorable experience they had at camp. Most of them cried while they talked, and I cried along with them. I was surprised to see my sister go up on stage. She said how happy she was to come to this Church and how thankful she was for her family, especially me. That was one of the first times she had ever expressed her love for me as her sister. Once she sat down, I got up and sat next to her. I told her how grateful I was for what she said, and we cried together. We really made a special connection.
We continued going to church and taking the missionary lessons. As the weeks went by, I learned much more about the Church. I wanted to do the right things. I began reading the Bible and the Book of Mormon, praying, eating good food, dressing modestly, and trying to live a Christian life. After trying all these things, I felt good about myself.
My mother, who had not wanted to go to church, continued to participate in the missionary lessons and continued to take us to church every Sunday. We made the decision to be baptized, and my mother, sister, and I became members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on June 3, 2000. This was a decision that has changed all of our lives. My brother was too young to be baptized, and my stepfather did not share in our beliefs, but he always supported all of us in our Church-related activities and meetings.
We now have numerous friends that we would not otherwise have if we had not gone to church. We participate in many community service projects and have become happier people. I went on to receive my Young Women in Excellence award and attend community college. After high school, I became active in the single adults ward, where I met a wonderful returned missionary. We were married and have now had our first child.
Through all these experiences in the Church, our family has grown closer, and we are striving to become an eternal family. Seven years after our baptism, both my stepfather and my little brother made the decision to join the Church and were baptized together on January 20, 2007.

Yu stepped out of cram school onto the busy sidewalk. His head was full of math facts from his after-school class. People hurried by with umbrellas. Fat raindrops were falling fast, and the street was soaked.

Yu’s friend, Lin, stepped out beside him. “You should call your dad to pick you up,” Lin said. “Mr. Zhang says it’s flooding in some parts of the city.”

“I can get home on my own.”

“But look at all the water!” Lin said, pointing to the water flowing swiftly in the gutter.

For a moment, Yu had a funny feeling. Was Lin right? Maybe he should call Dad to drive him home before the streets flooded. But he and Dad had an argument last night, and Yu was still angry. He didn’t want to ask Dad for help.

Yu unchained his bike and said goodbye to Lin. If I pedal hard, he thought, I can make it home before the streets flood.

He pedaled hard, but soon his hands were cold, his clothes were soaked, and he was exhausted. Once again, the thought came to call Dad. Was the feeling from the Holy Ghost? The missionaries who baptized him had said that the Holy Ghost could be his guide. Yu glanced at the sky. It was so grey that he couldn’t see the tops of the buildings. But he was still mad at Dad.

Yu ignored the feeling and kept pedaling. The water got so high that shop owners closed their stores. People moved belongings to higher floors. Yu saw a mother push her two children through the flood in a little plastic boat.

With the water now past his ankles, Yu could no longer pedal his bike. He got off and pushed. It was probably too late to call Dad now, and the rain was still coming down. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed above him. Yu felt afraid. And he was so tired! He looked ahead. Home was still far away. He shouldn’t have ignored the Holy Ghost just because of a silly argument.

Yu stopped to say a short prayer. He couldn’t hear his voice above the rain and thunder, but he knew that Heavenly Father could hear him.

“Heavenly Father,” Yu prayed. “Please help me get home safely.” When he finished, he felt enough strength to keep going.

At last, Yu could see his house on the hill. Cold, tired, and somehow missing a shoe, Yu trudged up the hill. He saw Dad waiting for him outside. Dad rushed down the hill to meet him, splashing water as he ran.

When Dad reached him, he put his arms around Yu. “I was so worried!” Dad said. “You should have called me!”

“I thought we were mad at each other,” Yu said.

“I am never too mad to help you,” Dad said. Then he took Yu’s bike and pushed it the rest of the way up the hill.

Even with thunder echoing between the tall buildings and heavy rain pelting down, a warm feeling filled Yu’s heart. He felt peace and safety as he followed Dad home.

The Church is gradually starting to expand in Australia, although still very slowly. I love the missionary work, and it is slowly gathering momentum. My parents were baptized in May 1966 by Elder Jay Sorensen and Elder Michael Leigh. Shortly after my parents’ baptism in Sydney, we moved to a country town in New South Wales named Dubbo, and for three years we either met at home as a family every Sunday or else traveled 200 miles to the nearest chapel. We were the only Mormons in a town of 19,000. We stayed in Dubbo six years and pioneered a branch there. My dad became the branch president, but though missionaries labored there all the time, only four members were baptized in six years. Finally, our family and the other two families left, and the branch closed down. I can never be grateful enough for the strength and faith of my parents during the Dubbo years. I marvel at it now, because they themselves had only been members less than a year when we moved. I wasn’t a bit surprised when my dad was called as a bishop after being in Adelaide only a year. I love talking about my family because I’m just so proud of them and owe them everything I am in this life.

Alan thought about his own mission and the lessons he’d learned.
One lesson wasn’t learned until he’d been out for a year. His companion at that time was Elder Taylor, who at that time had been out only three months. They were working in a rural area south of Rochester, New York, and had nobody to teach. The zone leader had decided to move them to a new area in another town in a month.
One night after a week of broken appointments, people not at home, doors slammed in their faces, Elder Taylor asked, “I wonder why things are going so badly.”
“Maybe it’s because there’s a family still in this area who’s so golden that the adversary is trying to discourage us from finding them before we’re pulled out of this area.”
The spiritual confirmation had been so strong that for several minutes neither of them spoke.
“That’s it,” Alan said after a few minutes.
“Well, all we’ve got to do is find them,” Elder Taylor said.
After that the burden they carried was that they felt there was a family waiting for them but they couldn’t find anybody. Alan became more tense as the days passed.
One morning Elder Taylor suggested, “Why don’t we inspiration contact?”
“What’s that?” Alan had asked wearily, annoyed at his companion’s usually naive suggestions.
“We just drive around until we feel the promptings of the Spirit, and then we stop and visit the house.”
“Okay, we’ll try it. What have we got to lose?” They drove around their area. In a few minutes, Elder Taylor shouted, “Stop! Let’s visit that house.”
They parked and walked up to the house. A lady answered and said she wasn’t interested. The next house Elder Taylor tried had been vacant for two months. Alan tried one house and a dog nearly bit him.
By that time it was time for lunch. Alan was in a bad mood.
“We must be doing something wrong,” Elder Taylor announced. “Why don’t we fast?”
“Every time we turn around you want to fast,” Alan snapped. “What have you got against eating?”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I want to get the most out of my mission.”
“What do you think I’m doing here?” Alan replied angrily.
They drove in silence the rest of the way to the apartment. Alan fixed some sandwiches and juice.
“I’m not eating,” Elder Taylor said cooly.
“Look, I’m the senior companion and I say you eat! You can’t fast every other day!”
They ate quietly, each feeling justified in his feelings about the other.
Finally Elder Taylor asked, “Do you want to try inspiration contacting again?”
“The way I feel now,” Alan replied, “I’d drive into the Atlantic Ocean before I’d ever feel any inspiration.”
“Then what are we going to do this afternoon?” Elder Taylor asked.
“I don’t know.” Alan looked out the window, afraid he was going to lose control of himself. “I want to be close to the Lord. But it’s so hard. Maybe the Lord can’t work through me.”
“I’m sure he can. Look, you’re the senior companion. I’ll do whatever you want.”
Alan glanced over at Elder Taylor. “Maybe if we prayed.”
After the prayer they got up off their knees and Elder Taylor asked, “What do you think?”
“I think we’ve got to get a plan.” Alan walked to the map of the area on the wall. “We’ve got one week left before the area is closed down. In that time we’re going to visit every house. Every house. And we’ll start right here,” his finger went down on one of the small towns in the area. “Then we’ll move south until we’ve visited every house.”
That afternoon they drove to the town that was to be their starting place. In the second house they found the family the Lord had prepared for them.
I should have known, Alan thought. The Lord explained it all in the ninth section of the Doctrine and Covenants. [D&C 9]

That’s what I was able to do with a friend, someone whom I considered to be the most beautiful, confident, and intelligent young woman I knew. We’d been friends for years, but it wasn’t until high school that I discovered she had an eating disorder. One day during a psychology class, we had an entire lesson on eating disorders—why and how people become consumed by them. During this lesson my friend was unusually quiet and looked uncomfortable. That’s when I first began to suspect her “internal dispute,” as we later referred to it.
After that class, I began to notice that my friend’s normal behaviors were not so normal—things like her lack of appetite, her comments about how she looked fat, or the constant facade of perfection she was trying to keep up. I became really scared for her and decided to fast and pray for her—I didn’t know what else to do.
Eventually, the Spirit told me I needed to talk to her with great love. I did the best I could and fasted and prayed that I would know what to say to her. When I finally talked with her about my suspicion of an eating disorder, we both cried as she admitted to having one. She told me she knew she was struggling and didn’t know how to help herself—or if she even wanted to change. I was so surprised that she didn’t deny having an eating disorder. The Spirit was definitely with us during that conversation. With the assistance of parents and counselors, we found help for her. And through those efforts, she’s now healthy again.
Helping her rediscover her worth was one of the best things I’ve ever had the opportunity to do. I knew she has great worth. She is an extremely special person—she just forgot how much worth she has. I wanted her to see herself the way Christ sees her, and along the way she showed me that I needed to do the same for myself.

“But, Pa, I’m bigger now! See?” Joshua said as he stood on his tiptoes.
“I do see how big you are,” Pa said. “Come over here to the measuring wall. We’ll measure again.”
Joshua ran over to the measuring wall and stood as tall as he could. Pa took a pencil and put a mark on the wall just above Joshua’s head. It was a little higher than the last one.
“Well, I’ll be!” Pa said. “You’ve grown one-eighth of an inch!”
“I knew it! Can I ride Dugan today?” Joshua asked as he jumped up and down.
“I think you just might be big enough to ride the horse,” Papa said.
Joshua was so excited! He went to the corrals with Pa and watched as Pa put a bridle and harness on Dugan.
“Why didn’t you put a saddle on her?” Joshua asked.
“Because today we have work to do with her,” Pa explained. “We are building a fence. You and Dugan will get to help.”
“Really? How?” Joshua asked.
“We will put a chain around the poles that are in that pile by the barn. Then we will hook them to the harness on Dugan and she will pull the poles where they need to go,” Pa said.
Joshua sat on the fence as Pa put a chain around the poles. He looked at Dugan. “She is a really big horse,” he thought. He began to feel nervous.
Pa finished chaining the last pole. “Ready, Joshua? Come over here and I’ll lift you up.”
Joshua climbed down the fence slowly and walked over to Pa with his head hung low.
“What’s the matter? Have you changed your mind?” Pa asked.
“Maybe I better wait until tomorrow,” Joshua mumbled. “I’ll be even bigger then.”
“I bet you won’t be scared anymore after you get on the horse. I won’t let you get hurt. I’ll walk beside you and lead Dugan to the place where we unload the poles,” Pa said.
“Really? You’ll be with me?” Joshua asked.
“You bet I will,” Pa said. He reached down and lifted Joshua onto Dugan’s back in one big swoosh.
“Wow! Look how high I am!” Joshua said. He grinned from ear to ear.
As he rode, Joshua looked at Pa. He realized that Heavenly Father would always be there to help him too. He would lift him up. He would walk beside him. And knowing that, Joshua could do anything—even ride a really big horse.

Just a couple of months ago I too was great to my friends, but when I came home, I would pick fights over the littlest subjects with my parents. I began to be depressed with my actions. I love my parents very much, and I wanted to find a solution to my problem. I found that prayer, scripture reading, attending and really taking Church meetings to heart, and speaking to my parents about my problem soon led me to the path back to being the real daughter of God that I should have been all along. I’m not perfect yet, but then again, neither is any of us. So just keep trying!
Laura Kim Wright, 17Franklin, Indiana

Sometimes while they gardened, Mom told Vanessa stories about what it was like to grow up on a farm. One day she said, “My mother used to tell me: ‘You reap what you sow. If you plant cucumber seeds, you get cucumber vines and cucumber blossoms, and, eventually, cucumbers. You’ll never get cauliflower from cucumber seeds. If we sow acts of kindness, we reap friendship and happiness.’”
“But if we sow evil and unkindness, then we reap the consequences—unhappiness and sadness,” Vanessa added. They were silent for a few minutes before Vanessa asked, “It can take a long time to see the results of what you’ve sown, can’t it, Mom?” She was thinking of a girl who had started at their school before Christmas and was extremely shy. Vanessa had been nice to her, but it had taken until February to get the girl to respond. But Vanessa’s persistence paid off; the girls were now good friends.

During the last half of my college years, I worked as a producer for my university’s radio show. It was a fun job with tons of creative freedom, but there were also a lot of rules. My general job description was producing radio content; though this might seem self-explanatory, the details of the job were documented in an exhaustive, multipage document. It included rules about email etiquette, interview prep, audio cuts, and all kinds of things I had never heard of.
It was daunting at first as I tried to remember all the details. But I came to appreciate that list—it helped me be a better producer. It wasn’t a restrictive list that kept me from using my creativity; instead, it helped me turn my ideas into a real, finished product. It was a set of guidelines, created by people who knew the job much better than I did.

I don’t have any photographs of myself as a child. One afternoon during my senior year in high school, my mother, who was a school teacher, and I were driving home together after my basketball practice. We lived on a ranch about three miles outside of the small town of Lima, Montana, where the school was located. As we neared our home, we could see smoke billowing up from the house. I was driving and rushed to get home. When we got there, the house was already engulfed in flames. Fortunately my stepfather and little brother were safely out working in the field. But everything that we owned, everything, burned in the fire. That was a very traumatic experience for me. I was sixteen years old, and to be left with nothing was a very, very lonely feeling.
Friends came that night and put my family up in their homes for a few days. I was distraught from worrying about what our family would do. I stayed awake most of the night, worrying and occasionally weeping. I remember that my mother came into my room about four o’clock in the morning and said, “My dear son, everything will be all right. As long as we have family, friends, and the gospel, we have everything.” That was a marvelous lesson for me to learn.

The sun shone warmly on an outrigger canoe as a father and son dipped their paddles into the smooth water. Mapa, the boy, stared into the clear depths, not conscious of the beauty there or of the beautiful morning around them. Somewhere deep inside he hurt, like a leg hurts when the water is too cold for swimming and a boy goes swimming anyway. But the ache was even worse whenever he looked down at his little Puaka Tea asleep near his bare feet—all curled up and scrubbed clean and pink. She’s not very big yet, he thought sadly. How he wished he could keep her until she was grown and the mother of many little pigs. But she must be sold at the marketplace, because it would soon be time for school and there was not enough money to buy the uniforms and sandals all Tongan students wear.
Father had planned on cash from his crops, but the hurricane winds had destroyed most of them this year. Then Mother had tried to help by weaving baskets and mats and making tapa cloth to be sold at the market. Little brother Sione had sent his two best chickens in a cage to be sold. Their legs tied together, they seemed quite content just to be blinking out at the world.
The whole family was anxious to help Mapa get ready for school. And when he thought about their concern for him, a good feeling began to push away some of the hurt about having to sell Puaka.
“Rest awhile, Mapa,” Father advised, as the canoe slipped gracefully across the water. “There will be much to see and do when we reach Tongatapu Island.”
“Have I ever been there?”
“When you were very small.”
Mapa leaned back against the boat. “I want to go to a store and buy something for Mother and Sione,” he said.
Mapa reached inside his vala (dressy skirt-like garment) to make sure his twenty-seniti (cent) coin was still there. Nestled there also was something else. It was hard and round. Mapa frowned. He had forgotten to leave his newfound treasure home. He and Sione had been playing with it just before Father called him to the boat. It was a different color from the tui tui nuts the boys usually played with. He had found it that morning inside a shellfish. It was silvery white and lustrous.
The gentle rocking of the boat lulled the boy to sleep. He saw himself running with Puaka Tea at his heels. His bare legs, bronzed by the sun, were strong and fast. The wind blew warm on his smiling brown face. The pig followed him wherever he went, through the tall grass, along the sand on the beach, even into the shallow water. He heard her squealing.
Mapa opened his eyes. Puaka Tea was awake and squealing loudly. The boat trembled and lurched sideways.
“Father! What is happening?” Mapa shouted.
The chickens clucked and banged their beaks against the side of the cage.
“Hold on, son!”
Another plunge. The frightened pig scampered back and forth in the bottom of the canoe. Mapa reached for her just as the boat tipped again. Puaka Tea tumbled into the ocean, her feet flailing as she went under.
“Oh, no!” Mapa cried, as he jumped in after her. Then up the pig came, floundering near an overturned basket. He grabbed the animal and pulled her with him to the boat. Still squealing, Puaka Tea went up over the side to safety.
“What happened?” Mapa asked as soon as he had pulled himself inside the canoe.
“Well, I think a young whale wanted to visit us. Thank goodness, I was able to nudge it away. This serves for more than just rowing!” Father declared, holding up a long paddle. Mapa and Father laughed together, and the animals settled themselves.
Mapa saw a faint line on the far horizon as he shaded his eyes with the palm of his hand. Soon a shoreline began to take shape. Anticipation brought a smile to his face. He could see the same expression reflected in his father’s dark eyes. “We will soon be there, son. Look, there is the king’s palace.”
Stately Norfolk pines towered above tall white walls. The red roof matched the colorful hibiscus and poinsettia flowers blooming in the courtyard.
“Red and white, the colors of the kingdom,” Mapa said softly. “I have never seen anything so magnificent. Look, there is a big ship in the harbor. Where do you think it came from?”
Father’s eyes studied it. “From Australia, I think.”
Soon the outrigger was securely tied to the dock and, with the pig pattering along beside them, they carried their wares to market. Mapa had never seen so many people. He tied Puaka Tea to a pole and she began to root around contentedly in the soft ground.
“May I go to a store now?” Mapa asked.
Father knew the boy wanted to be away when someone came to buy the pig. “Yes, but be careful.”
Mapa’s heart was heavy. “Good-bye, my little Puaka Tea,” he whispered, and turned and hurried across the street.
The store seemed very big, for Mapa was used to only the small thatched huts of the village. This building was made of wood and filled to capacity with all kinds of supplies. The pungent odor of spice cake and new leather filled the room. Three small children at the counter were laughing and playing with their new toys. The trinkets from New Zealand, Japan, and India fascinated Mapa most. He was so engrossed, his curly head bent over the shelf, that he did not notice a lady customer come into the store.
Finally he reached into the folds of his vala for the coin, and out fell the stone. Clattering to the floor, it rolled across the boards almost to the lady’s feet.
“Malo-e-lelei (Hello),” she greeted him. Her voice sounded strange.
Mapa’s eyes opened wide. The voice was not nearly as strange as the lady herself. Her skin was very white, and her eyes were as blue as the horizon where the ocean meets the sky. Her hair was golden like a sun blossom.
“Malo-e-lelei,” he answered and picked up his treasure.
The woman smiled and came closer to him. “May I see it?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’m,” he replied and handed it to her.
“It is lovely.” She studied it closely. “I would very much like to buy it. Will you sell it to me?”
Mapa thought for a moment. I wonder why this lady wants it? Perhaps I can find another one.
“Yes, you may buy it.”
He was astonished at the many slips of paper pa’anga (dollars) the lady placed in his hand.
“Malo’aupito (thank you very much),” he said.
Mapa ran back to the marketplace. His father would be surprised, for his son held more money in his hand than anyone would pay for baskets or chickens or a little pig. He could keep Puaka Tea!
“Father! Father!” Oh, if only I’m in time!
A tall, neatly dressed man stood by his father, holding onto the rope tied around Puaka Tea’s leg.
“What is it, Mapa? What has happened?”
“Do not sell my pig! I have money. It is enough. See, here!”
Father’s mouth opened in disbelief. “But where did you get it?”
“I sold a stone I found to a lady from the ship. I can keep Puaka Tea and still buy things for school.”
“That was not an ordinary stone, son. It must have been a pearl! I am happy for your good fortune,” Father said.
The tall man, understanding, left in search of another pig.
Mapa bent down and untied Puaka Tea, who gave a happy little squeal.

“It was a great opportunity to strengthen my testimony,” says Daniel Kirkpatrick, who baptized his friend Jeron Fosjord after helping the missionaries teach him. “It helped me appreciate the priesthood more because it wasn’t my dad performing the ordinance. It wasn’t one of the older adults or even my older brother. It was me. I had the priesthood, and I could use it.”

Daniel, a priest in the Pioneer Park Ward, was struck by the eternal consequences of performing Jeron’s baptism. “Jeron is going to be a missionary some day. He’ll affect others, and they’ll affect others. It was a sobering thought, a wake-up call, that what I was doing will have eternal echoes.”

When the day finally came, naturally Dan was nervous about performing an ordinance in front of other people. “I was a little scared,” he says. “I probably asked Jeron his middle name a thousand times to make sure I got it right.” It didn’t help that the font hadn’t filled all the way.

“The water didn’t even reach our knees,” Dan says.

He got the name right, but the water was so low that it took him four tries before Jeron was completely submerged. “I just about drowned him one time because as he was coming up I saw that he hadn’t gone all the way under, so I panicked and pushed him down again.”

After the third try, they went ahead with the talks and musical number while the font filled some more. By Dan’s fourth and final try, the water was up to their waists. “It was easy then,” he says.

Despite it being a “rough first time,” Dan loved the experience: “It was awesome.” Not only did it strengthen his testimony and help him appreciate the priesthood more, the experience excited him about serving a mission.

“I’ve felt the fears and tasted the successes of a full-time mission,” he says. “I’m excited to get out there and serve.”

The Book of Mormon brought me a great desire to be accepted of the Lord. One night, my newborn daughter awakened me. I fed her, and she soon fell asleep, but I was left awake in the stillness of the night. I thought of the changes in my life and the many things that still needed to be changed. My thoughts were drawn to God, and I prayed, remembering the words of the Lamanite king who cried, “O God, … wilt thou make thyself known unto me, and I will give away all my sins to know thee.” (Alma 22:18.)
One by one, the Lord showed me my weaknesses. In the early hours of the morning, I received a sweet assurance, which I recorded in my journal and have pondered many times: “I am your Father. Your Father!”

One day, some years ago, when the youngest of my nephews was about 5, I received a phone call from his brother, 3 years his senior. “Now, Aunty Sarah,” the voice on the phone said, “you mustn’t be cross.”
Uh oh, I thought.
“R wants to talk to you, he’s very upset.”
A very sniffly voice came on the line. “Aunty Sarah, I’ve spent all of your money!”
Let me pause to explain the back story. In the days of angry birds and me being a very cool aunt, I had given my nephews access to my bank account (I know!), with strict instructions that they stick to the agreed budget and always pay me back with their pocket money at the end of the month.
This agreement had largely been honoured.
“What happened R?”
“I pressed the thing to buy the game and it didn’t work and so I pressed it a few more times, and now I’ve spent ALL of your money!”
“How much have you spent?”
“£30!”
As it turns out, I had £35 in the bank, so all was well, but here’s the point. In the light of his overwhelming distress and remorse, I would have done anything to comfort him. I did everything to console him that he had not, in fact, spent all of my money. And that if he had, his father and I would have sorted it out. Over and over, I reassured him that although terrible and enormous to him, what he had done was fixable and he could leave it with me. I told him all was well, that these app things are tricky to work when you’re 5 and that I loved him.
He stopped crying and after a time, we ended the call.
In that moment, I believe I felt some measure of the power and depth of God’s love for all of us, when we seek Him in utter despair and humility. When all feels hopeless. When the long burden feels too much to bear.
I had a glimpse into all that our Heavenly Parents must feel for us. I would have done anything to comfort and console my nephew. I didn’t care about the money, I only wished to reassure him. We know that the Saviour feels the same about us. May we learn to trust and believe that He will do, in fact has done, all that is necessary to carry the burden for us.

Liola Christine Nau Hingano grew up in the Church, and she often saw the missionaries serving in her community. “I wanted to serve a mission myself,” she says. However, serving would not be easy.
Shortly after Liola submitted her mission papers, she became very sick. The doctors discovered she had a tumor and had to perform surgery to remove it. While she was in the hospital, Liola received her mission call—to serve in Tonga. She had two months to recover before starting her mission, but it was a difficult time for Liola because her parents thought a mission would be too hard on her and didn’t want her to go.
“But I believed that because the Lord had called me, I would be OK, so I decided to go,” she says. “When I entered the missionary training center, the mission president gave me a blessing and said that as I served the Lord, I would be as healthy as any missionary.
“My first mission area was very hard. We walked for miles each day just to get to the area where we were working. We carried our scriptures with us, and the sun was hot. But I knew I would be fine because I had received a priesthood blessing that said so. And I was. I never had trouble because of my previous illness.
“I am very grateful I had the courage to go on a mission and not turn back. It has made such a difference in who I am today—and in my testimony. I have faith in our Savior and Heavenly Father.”

S stands for Service in Arizona. All over the state, LDSSA council members are boosting the idea that involvement is joy.
In the Phoenix region, the Latter-day Saint students are concentrating on the underprivileged areas. The main focus of their work has been on community school activities. They started from scratch and have developed a five-day-a-week program for all interested adult members in the surrounding community.
“We beamed with pride when Mr. Fuller, director of the community school, spoke at the institute and praised our efforts,” commented Gordon Paul Sorenson.
Brian Hendrickson, third-year law student, is community project chairman; and, according to Tempe institute director Sherman Beck, Brian stirred up a wonderful storm when he got the community project going. “Working with underprivileged children to lift them to greater heights of accomplishment and to give meaning to their lives is most rewarding,” Brian says.
Erline Hall is a great girl with a heart quick to sense an ache in another’s. She has winning ways with children, too, who clamor to “sit by teacher” as she assists them in reading as part of Safford, Arizona’s Head Start program. Her speciality is the five-year-old Mexican-American students, who are eager to learn.
Winter has come to the desert around Tucson. The morning air is biting to young Lamanites standing in a huddle waiting for their ride to seminary. Their own parents are unable to take them. But there are smiles all around when a long car pulls to a quick stop. It’s Chris, one of the girls who signed up with LDSSA’s car pool project. At seminary the students will be taught by a young returned missionary, also a member of LDSSA.
Every Monday night in Tucson, carloads of happy college students embark upon their most thrilling night of the week. Twenty minutes later they are in a twentieth century ghetto, tutoring elementary and high school students.
One member is teaching piano to four black students; and because no instruments are available in their homes or in the neighborhood, she picks the students up and takes them to the institute, where pianos are available.
“The service we render to others is really the rent we pay for our room on this earth,” said Sir Wilfred Thomason Grenfell. The service we render to others is also an act of love and obedience before our Heavenly Father, who reminds us that to lose our life is to save it.

A priests quorum decided one winter to gather food for the needy as a service project. This event soon developed into a competitive activity with the Laurels to see who could gather the most food.
Jim, one of the members of the quorum, became very excited about participating in this activity. He planned to use a cart he had built for a parade and was determined that he was going to collect more food than anyone else.
The night came, and the priests and Laurels met at the chapel. They went out at the same time and returned at the specified time later in the evening. Much to everyone’s surprise, Jim’s cart was empty. He was rather sober and didn’t seem to want to talk to anyone. Some of the boys made fun of him and asked, “Where’s your food, Jim? We thought you were going to beat us all.”
Seeing the situation Jim was in and knowing that he had an interest in automobiles, the adviser grabbed him and said, “Come outside, Jim, I want you to look at my car. It’s giving me some trouble.”
When they got outside, the adviser said, “What’s wrong, Jim?” Jim began to cry and said, “I don’t know if I want to talk about it.”
“Are you upset?”
“No, not really. But when I went out to collect the food, I really got a lot. My cart was full. As I was returning to the chapel, I stopped at the home of a nonmember woman who is divorced and lives within our ward boundaries. I knocked on the door and explained what we were doing, and she invited me in. She began to look for something to give me. She opened the refrigerator, and I could see there was hardly anything in it. The cupboards were bare. Finally, she found a small can of peaches.
“I could hardly believe it. There were all these little kids running around that needed to be fed, and she handed me this can of peaches. I took it and put it in my cart and went on up the street. I got about halfway up the block when I just felt warm all over and knew I needed to go back to that house. I gave her all the food.”
The adviser said, “Jim, don’t you ever forget the way you feel tonight, because that’s what it is all about.”
Because of the priesthood Jim held, he had received the ministering of angels and through the Holy Ghost had been guided to do something that was far more important than winning the contest.

“We were so scared. We didn’t know if you’d like us,” said an anglo leader.
“I’ve never known a lot of Lamanites before, and I am proud to be one,” said a Lamanite participant.
The thoughts were being voiced at a testimony meeting concluding a five-day girls camp for Lamanite girls from the Southwest Indian Mission. Also participating were Anglo girls and leaders.
“Sometimes brownskins and whiteskins in our area don’t have the nicest of feelings toward each other,” said a participant, “so we looked forward to this camp so that we could make sure bad feelings didn’t happen in the Church, where we have a real commitment to respect and love each other.”
Besides spirits’ being lifted—many Lamanite girls thrilled at being among the tall fir trees, mountain peaks, and cold streams outside of Farmington, New Mexico—some conversions occurred, and friendships flowered all over the place. It was a worthy goal—elimination of prejudice—and in this instance, a superb way to accomplish it.

May I share with you brethren my personal experience as a teachers quorum president? The member of the bishopric who had responsibility for us invited the new presidency and secretary to come to his home for leadership training. He wanted our ideas concerning how we should go about our newly given duties. We obliged—on condition that he would invite his wife, Nettie, to serve us some of the meat pies for which she was famous. This he agreed to do. Brethren, isn’t it remarkable how we men will obligate our wives to do things—often without notice? The resulting meeting was one of the best I have ever attended. We were taught to the level of our understanding and inspired to look after our quorum members.
After a delicious meat pie smothered with gravy, we asked the bishop’s counselor and his wife to join in a game of Monopoly. I am certain they had other things to do, but they willingly complied with our request.
I don’t remember who won the Monopoly game, but I have never forgotten the lessons learned that night in Church government and in the administration of a priesthood quorum.

Matt James, 26, of Utah, USA, feels it’s part of his mission in life to help those who weren’t born into the privileges he enjoys. It’s partly a result of being raised by philanthropic parents, and partly because of a sense of responsibility best expressed by the words of “Because I Have Been Given Much” (Hymns, no. 219). After Matt served a full-time mission in Ireland and Scotland, his heart was drawn toward the African refugees he’d taught and baptized there, so when the chance to go to Uganda came up, he went.
Even though he had already traveled to Ethiopia, Peru, and India, “Uganda changed my life,” says Matt. “I know that God led me to that specific part of the world for a very wise purpose.” Part of that purpose was to befriend and eventually baptize a woman named Carolyn. And part was to have his heart touched by the orphans he worked with. When it was time to leave, Matt didn’t want to lose touch with these people he had grown to care for. So he spoke with his parents, who offered to help him with the funds to construct an orphanage with Carolyn in a small town called Mbale.
Carolyn, who herself grew up as an orphan, continues to oversee the orphanage’s operations. Matt returns to Uganda every summer and has partnered with others to build a larger orphanage, providing shelter and education for over 200 children. And he now runs a jewelry-making business that helps sustain the orphanage.
As Matt says, we all have certain things in life that God has blessed us to care about. “I firmly believe that if everybody were to be true to themselves and put the work forth, follow the path that’s laid out in front of them and take the opportunities that are given to them, that everyone would find their cause. And if everyone were to find their cause and be diligent, the world would be a much, much better place.”
Finding your “cause” doesn’t have to be complicated. “Pray to God and strive to find your passions,” Matt suggests. “Pray to find out what those things are that you care about, that you can have your sphere of influence touch, and do it.”